Elixir (Red Plague #1) (Red Plague Trilogy) (4 page)

On news reports in the days leading up to my locking myself into a bunker I’d witnessed Reds run at full speed. I’d seen them attack with an inhuman ferocity. I’d watched, fascinated, as one tore a garden shed to splinters to get at a dog cowering inside. But I’d never seen or heard of a Red turning away from easy prey.

Ben paced, a low, guttural growl emanating from between clenched jaws. “Mmrrr. Mmmrrr.”

“I think we’ll be okay,” I said to Hunny. “We’ll stay here until dawn. Let go of my hand.” Traveling at night was too dangerous. I couldn’t see well enough to avoid meandering zombies, and without a good hiding place I’d be cooked. Even if I sprinted I could run straight into another pack.

My watch read six thirty. Dinner time. My stomach rumbled right on cue.

“Then go where?”

Good question.

I’d leave Hunny with the first people we found, and then I’d acquire a house with an upstairs. I could live there indefinitely, safe and secure. When it was quiet, I’d go on supply runs until I built up a decent stockpile. It was more or less the life I’d been leading for the past two weeks. I knew exactly how to survive that way.

But there was another option. Out there, no more than a day’s walk away, lay my dad’s lab. He’d spent his final days and hours creating a cure. If I found the elixir and somehow delivered it to an educated survivor for analysis and eventual distribution to plague victims, then this nightmare would be over.

My dad would want his work to mean something. He hadn’t given up on a cure. Even when he should have stayed home and away from contagion, he’d gone to work to help save us all.

I would finish what he started.

“Tomorrow we’re going to Raleigh,” I announced, glancing down at Ben. “We’re going to wipe out the red plague.”

A cure exists
.

Chapter Three

Sleep had been agonizingly out of reach all night. I didn’t trust Ben enough to sit on the branch and close my eyes. So I spent the night standing, hugging the coarse bark of the tree, and holding hands with Hunny until my shoulder muscles gave up.

Several times I’d suffered waking nightmares that the sun would never come up and I’d be trapped forever in a tree with a little girl above me and a hungry Red below. Fortunately, the earth kept turning and as the sun rose and cast warm light onto my face, I slipped out of my pack and inventoried my meager provisions.

During the night my sweat-soaked clothes had dried out, but now my mouth was chalky.

I still had fig cookies, but no water. My first priority, after escaping Ben, had to be fresh water or it wouldn’t matter what else happened.

“I’m thirsty,” Hunny murmured.

Me too
. “I don’t have anything to drink.”

“What!”

“I got chased by Reds before I found any.”

She huffed a disappointed sigh. “This sucks.”

I sorted the rest of my possessions, but one thing wasn’t where it should have been. My clicker pen, the Hello Kitty one I wrote songs with, had been snug in the side pocket of my pack yesterday. But it was missing. No sign of it in the grass and pine needles beneath me. Like everything else I’d ever cared about, it was gone.

At the very bottom of my backpack I carried what was most important to me, the things I would never be parted from. My iPad with the final pictures of my family in it. My song diary. But besides the cookies there was nothing to cook with, no first-aid, and no matches or tools.

I replaced my pack and drew my short sword.

Far to my right a tapping sound started up, ran through a nice and even staccato rhythm, and then ceased. A woodpecker, probably. Or the wind blowing a gate against a wall. It was amazing the noises I heard after all the human sounds went away.

Hunny stirred above me. “That was the worst night of my life.”

It wasn’t the worst night of my life. There was the first night after my mom was killed, and the night after Mason was arrested. And the night my dad didn’t come home from work. There had been some rough nights in the bunker when I’d wondered if I was the last uninfected survivor alive in the whole world. In the dark the loss of so many billions of people had hit me the hardest. I’d had more nightmares tucked inside the panic room than I’d ever had as a child in my bed.

Tonight wasn’t even in my top ten.

“Mr. Zombie’s still there, Maya.” Hunny’s voice squeaked. “Why don’t you kill him already?”

“We don’t have to kill every Red we meet,” I said, eyeing Ben. He was about my age, seventeen, or maybe a little older. He stared right back. “We can outrun him.”

He hadn’t slept once, but he’d paced, and then circled the tree, and then stood like a statue. No matter where he’d moved he’d always kept me in his sights.

Nothing about him made sense. Ben didn’t run with a pack. He wasn’t obsessed with tearing the bloody organs from living bodies and consuming them raw. But he was unusually interested in Hunny and me. I’d never heard of a Red acting so
human
. If I hadn’t seen his crimson-colored eyes up close, I would have wondered if he was infected at all.

“Here’s the plan,” I stated, craning my neck to see into Hunny’s face. “I’ll jump down, and then you’ll jump down. We’re going to run our butts off in that direction.” I pointed northwest toward Raleigh. Woods and then the suburbs stood in our way. “No matter what happens, keep running. Can you do that?”

“Where are you taking me?”

“To my dad’s lab in Raleigh. I told you already.”

I gestured for Hunny to stay still on her upper branch until I could evaluate Ben’s attitude this morning and whether we could get out of this tree without being attacked.

Contrary to the color of his irises, he made no aggressive advances. No more guttural noises. But his blood red eyes tracked my every move.

“Hunny?” I began in my calmest voice, the kind you used around strange dogs. “I’m going now. If Ben attacks right away, just stay in the tree.”

“I’m scared.” She whined once, and then was quiet.

The odds of making it safely away from the Red were good. Since he hadn’t attacked us yet. Maybe he had brain damage or some other invisible injury. All I had to do was run fast. And I was a very fast runner.

My fingers fluttered, signing the letters
r-u-n
several times. A nervous twitch.

I tightened the straps on my pack, adjusted my sword, and stepped away from the tree trunk. The branch under my sneakers squeaked. Silently, Ben shifted from one foot to the other. I crouched down, got a good hold on the branch, and swung off. I hit my feet and froze for a split second.

Ben growled. “Mmmmrr.” But he didn’t come any closer.

“Hurry, Hunny,” I said, reaching up. “Jump. I’ll catch you.”

She didn’t hesitate. But I’d underestimated the weight of an eight-year-old, even a half-starving one. Fifty pounds of terrified little girl hit me high in the chest and we both crashed into the hard, sandy ground.

I was on my feet in a blink, leading Hunny deeper into the trees. I didn’t wait to see if Ben chased us. I just ran. It didn’t matter how tired I was or sore or thirsty. I ran as fast as Hunny let me, heading north, away from my home, and toward my dad’s lab.

“I can’t go any faster,” she shouted.

“Yes, you can!”

I dragged Hunny through scrub brush and kudzu and around trees as tall as skyscrapers, stiff and craggy branches tearing at our clothes and faces, for what must have been a mile.

And then I really messed up. I got distracted by Hunny’s crying, gasping pleas and didn’t see the exposed root until it was too late. My boot caught, I did a sort of pirouette in midair, and slammed into the ground. Knifing pain tore through my right knee.

I tried to stand, but the moment I put weight on my leg it crumpled, and I tasted dirt again.

It was one thing to walk away from my house. It wasn’t gone, just invaded. I could always return in a few days, clear it out, and reinforce. I’d left my guitar behind, but I could find another one. Maybe even a better one. But without my speed, how was I going to survive? If I couldn’t run from Reds I’d have to fight them. And I was no good at fighting.

I forced oxygen in and out with even, measured breaths. Because I wasn’t going to give up and cry in the dirt. Not yet.

“You,” Hunny panted, “okay?”

Before risking an answer, I scanned the trees for a lone Red in a navy blue work shirt, but I saw only low hanging branches and pinecones.

“I twisted my knee.” The longer I remained on my feet the better I felt. “I’ll be okay. Just no more running.”

Maybe, as with a sprained ankle, a little rest and some willpower and I'd be better in a few minutes. I hobbled forward, but the moment I put the tiniest bit of weight on my right leg the pain popped. Gritting my teeth, I hopped forward using the evergreens for leverage.

Sweat dribbled along my hairline and a wave of dizziness hit me hard. Running in the late spring heat and humidity was draining the last of my reserves. I craved water, but there was none to guzzle down.

 “How are you going to take care of me?” Hunny asked. “You’re too hurt to do anything.”

Take care of her? I hadn’t asked for her companionship. In fact, she’d been thrust at me without my consent. I would have been better off alone. I knew how to survive on my own, but I hadn’t the first idea how to take care of a little kid.

My brother Mason had been like her—selfish. Demanding. I’d hated it when he’d bossed me around, and it was even worse when Hunny did it.

I almost yelled at her to leave, but I wouldn’t abandon her in the middle of a North Carolina pine forest. Sure, I wanted to get rid of her, but not like that. So I swallowed my frustration and shuffled forward.

“I’m fine.” I hopped to the next tree, making a lot of noise. Not on purpose, but on one leg it was difficult to be quiet. The contents of my pack jostled. Dry needles, pinecones, and twigs crackled.

Reds were attracted by noise.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” Hunny wedged herself under my right armpit. She was a scrawny kid, but she had strong shoulders. Leaning on her helped me hop faster.

“I’m hungry,” she said. “Do you have granola bars?”

I wished. “I have fig cookies.”

“Ew!” She gagged. “I’d rather eat barf.”

“It doesn’t matter. We can’t stop anyway.” Ben was close behind. There was no cover anywhere in sight. And I couldn’t climb a tree in my present condition. I had to keep walking until I found a building. Even a barn or a shed would’ve done at that point.

“I haven’t eaten in two days.” She fluttered her beautiful green eyes and stuck out her lower lip.

Rolling my eyes, I asked, “You didn’t eat yesterday, either?”

She shook her head and blonde curls, about a week from being full dreadlocks, bounced. If I didn’t brush her hair soon it would be unbrushable.

“We ran out, and Willa couldn’t find any more.”

It didn’t seem possible, but I hadn’t eaten since breakfast the day before. And that had been pretzels and my last bottle of water. I paused just long enough to pull the package of fig cookies out of my pack and offer them to Hunny.

“Yuck.” She squished up her freckled nose. “I hate those.”

“Suit yourself.” The scent of sweet dough and fruit had my stomach growling, and I shoved two in my mouth. “You can eat when we get to Raleigh.” The treat ground to paste in my dry mouth, refusing to go down my throat. Throwing my head back, I forced the food down. “There might be safe places to look there.” Or maybe not.

Though I didn’t know how we’d make it downtown in our present condition. Forty-five minutes away by car, if there was no gridlock. But on foot?
Walking
?

Not only did I not have a home to hide in, but I had a scrawny eight-year-old clinging to me like a monkey, the weather was doing its best to kill me, and I couldn’t even walk properly, let alone run from the Reds sure to sniff us out. The idea of ever finding my dad’s lab seemed like a pipe dream.

“Fine,” Hunny huffed, stealing a handful of soft cookies from my bag. “I’ll have some.”

Maybe with a working vehicle we could drive into the city. But that would take even more time and cause a lot of unnecessary noise. With no real weapons and no safe place to hide I preferred to keep walking.

“Can’t we sit down for a while?” Hunny asked, finishing the final fig cookie.

How had she survived this long with such awful instincts? “If we take a break,” I explained, “that Red from last night, Ben, will find us. We can’t stop until we get to a safe place.”

A branch snapped behind us. I didn’t see anyone in the trees, but either way, it was time to go. I grabbed Hunny and used her strength to help propel us both north toward the city.

Chapter Four

We stepped out of the cooler shade of a pine forest onto an exposed access lane behind a large subdivision of nearly identical, pastel-hued homes. This community hadn’t fared as well as mine. White smoke curled away from the charred remains of a two-story home. A pair of feral dogs fought over a human body lying in the gutter. Someone had painted “HELP ME” across his or her garage door.

I paused, taking the weight off my right knee. These people had experienced a level of fear and desperation that still lingered in the air. I may have been alone and uneasy on my cul-de-sac, but I’d never been afraid for my life. My sanity, yeah, but not my life. Setting up camp in one of these run-down houses was the last thing I wanted to do.

Uncomfortable with so many signs of anguish, I turned my back on the whole neighborhood. In the distance, peeking above swaths of green pines, were the tops of high-rises. My dad’s lab was somewhere out there, nestled among all those buildings, waiting for me to find it.

“We’re not going through the subdivisions,” I warned Hunny, who was already inspecting a fallen two-wheeler in someone’s driveway. If she sensed the sorrow in the atmosphere she didn’t let on. “We’re going to try to walk all the way to Raleigh today.” Though in this heat, with my aching knee, and no water we probably wouldn’t make it until tomorrow.